


Questions (The Return of the Demon)

by Syran



Series: Robin Reverse AU [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Batman and Robin (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Damian Wayne, Artist Damian Wayne, Confrontations, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Protective Damian Wayne, Reverse Chronology, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-22 15:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syran/pseuds/Syran
Summary: Amanda Waller sent Damian an invite to meet face to face. It seems she has questions. Good. Damian had a few questions himself.Meanwhile, Terry found the woman Damian sent him to. Though, she only leaves him with more questions than answers.Both men are faced with unanswered questions, and neither know how far they  are willing to go to find answers.





	1. Ignored Summoning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! I'm finally back with another sequel to the Robin Reverse AU (it really needs an official name). The last story was kind of a fluff piece, this one is a little more plot-based despite its fluffy opening chapter. The story will be 8 or so chapters long. This one is again Damian and Terry focused.
> 
> I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> This is maybe a few days after the last story.

The air that filtered through Damian’s window was cooler than Colin expected. It was the first day of September, autumn creeping in slowly behind summer’s coattails. The upcoming season change chilled the air as it colored the leaves in beautiful reds and oranges. The soft breeze slithered through again, and Colin could see the hairs on Damian’s bare arm raise. “Do you want me to close the window,” the red called from Damian’s bed. The other simply ignored him, focusing on the smooth slide of his razor against his jaw instead.

Damian had been ignoring Colin a lot lately. Colin knew that the prince’s mind was preoccupied, filled with thoughts of his brothers, his art and his city. Yet, Colin still believed that he held a place there as well. He watched quietly, letting the chill of Damian’s silence seep into his bones in a way that the autumn air never could.

The quiet penetrated deep, uncovering insecurities that Colin thought he no longer had. “Leave it open,” Damian’s voice called from the bathroom. The sound startled Colin. It took so long for Damian to answer that the red thought that he wouldn’t. Damian looked to him when his bed squeaked from Colin’s sudden jump. “Did you think that I did not hear you,” the Wayne asked innocently, “Or do you think that your questions hold no importance to me?”

“I,” Colin began before he glared menacingly, “I don’t appreciate your mind games. I thought that you didn’t want to talk.” The red flexed his fist within his lap, slightly out of Damian’s view. “I was trying to be considerate,” he said.

Damian placed his razor down then, now finished with his stubble, and entered his bedroom. He swiftly infiltrated Colin’s space, crowding himself in between Colin’s legs. “And I appreciate your patience, Beloved,” Damian replied. He cupped the red under his chin, placing a peck on his forehead. “I wasn’t ignoring you. Don’t ever think that your words hold no meaning to me.” Just as quickly as the man came, he went, facing the large Victorian mirror that sat upon his larger hand-carved dresser. “I’m just distracted,” he explained.

Colin sighed, the anger melting from him as soon as he heard Damian’s voice. “I know,” he said, “The exhibit is tonight.” He then got up from the bed, grabbing a pair of boxers to hand to Damian. The prince took them, untying the towel that sat on his hips. “I’m just being unreasonable,” Colin said, politely looking Damian in the eyes as the other dressed. He sighed again when he met soft sapphire eyes. “I’m just not used to you being so off,” Colin confessed, “I guess I’m just spoiled.”

Damian snorted softly. “That you are, Beloved,” the young man agreed, “Though, you are wrong about one thing.” Colin raised a red eyebrow in question. “It’s not the art exhibit that I’m concerned about,” Damian explained, “I doubt that I’ll even attend.” Colin’s confusion only intensified, and dozens of questions threatened to explode from his mouth. Before he could voice them, though, Damian handed the other a small handwritten letter.

“A letter,” Colin asked. He turned the paper to and fro, frowning deeply. “I thought you told Terry,” he began, but he instantly stopped himself. That wasn’t Terry’s chicken scratch. He slipped his finger under the seal, only to find that it was already opened. “Is it safe,” Colin asked absentmindedly, yet he still opened the envelope. After receiving a deadpanned look from Damian, he realized how silly his question was. Damian would never give him anything he didn’t know was safe. Judging by the way his fingers still opened the letter, his subconscious knew this. “Right,” he shrugged, “Sorry.”

“Just read it,” the raven said as he rolled his eyes. Colin did just that. As he eyes raked across the paper, he could feel it crumble against his clenched fist.  His lips were pulling into a scowl and a low growl began to bubble in this chest. He was moments from tossing it before his felt a strong hand on his wrist. A calloused thumb stroked the underside, easing Colin’s death grip on the letter. “Do you understand,” Damian mumbled. His voice rattled in his chest, his anger barely veiled by false calm. “I can’t attend the exhibition,” he said, “I need for you to go in my stead.”

Colin blinked away his anger, Damian’s suggestion causing him immediate pause. “Go in your stead,” he repeated, “No!” Damian backed away slightly, clearly put off by Colin’s harsh dismissal. “You worked hard on this,” Colin explained, “You’ve been helping your father put this exhibition together for months – even before Terry left.” He then pulled his wrist from Damian’s grip, finally balling up the letter and tossing it onto Damian’s ruined sheets. “If she wants to see you,” he growled, “Then she has to wait, just like anyone else who wants a meeting with the esteemed Damian Al-Ghul Wayne.” A proud smile began to blossom on Damian’s face as Colin continued. “Go to this, Damian,” Colin pleaded softly. He smoothed his fingers over Damian’s shaven face and the other’s smile widened. “Besides,” he began again. He turned away, leaving Damian in his bedroom. His voice echoed as he disappeared into Damian’s closet. “Fuck that bitch,” he snapped, “Waller will see you when you’re good and fucking ready.”

Damian snorted so loudly that Colin heard him from the depths of Damian’s enormous walk-in closet. The red wondered if Damian even remembered if he was from the Narrows too. He didn’t do it as often as he did when he was a child, but he cursed and used his Gotham drawl even once in a while too. “I see,” Colin heard Damian reply, “I’ll be sure to tell Waller just that.” The response pulled a laugh out of Colin as he jogged from out of Damian’s closet, a familiar black turtleneck in his hand. “Isn’t it a little too hot for that,” Damian asked.

“For a normal person,” Colin answered. Damian raised an eyebrow. “You’re a desert boy,” Colin shrugged, “I’m just looking out for you.” Damian rolled his eyes again, but took the shirt nonetheless. As he put it on, he reached the for slacks that Alfred laid out for him earlier. He left the rest of the suit behind, before placing gold rings on a few of his fingers and dabs of cologne on his neck. “You know,” Colin started, “You should stop, or I might get jealous. All those rich girls are going to be eyeing you.”

“How can they,” Damian asked. He paused to comb his hair, putting in as little effort as he could. He knew that if he perfected it Jason would simply ruffle it and insist that he looked better that way. Jason took style surprisingly seriously. Colin called it a Narrow’s thing. He then turned his attention back to his partner. “They’ll be unable to see past you,” he added. He flashed the boy a playful smile but frowned when he didn’t receive one back. “You will be on my arm, no,” Damian questioned.

Colin sighed. A sheepish smile graced his face, causing his freckles to fold along his cheeks. “Sorry,” he said, “But I got to help Ms. Harrison for a little bit.” The red nibbled at his lips as he waited for Damian’s disapproval, but the raven only nodded. His frown remained, though. Colin chuckled. It was more like a pout, but he wouldn’t never tell the other that. Instead he placed a wet kiss on his cheek, causing the man to scowl like when they were younger. “You may not be able to make the grand entrance with me,” Colin began, “But you get to leave with me.” He then pulled Damian closer and nipped at his sharp jawline. “And let’s be honest here,” the red teased, “That’s the better option.”

Damian chuckled darkly, promise bleeding into his sapphire eyes. “Maybe so,” he whispered before placing a kiss on Colin’s awaiting lips. “Though,” he started. He pulled away from Colin’s hold, plucking his forgotten letter from his bed. “I have to visit Waller first,” he finished, “I have questions for her, too.”

Colin moved his head from side to side, his neck popping as he did so. “If you need backup, I’m here,” he offered, “Remember that.” He then smoothed down Damian’s sweater, tugging it so it would fit him better. He flattened his palms along Damian’s arms and pulled the letter away from the other when their hands met. “Focus on your art for now,” he said, “Enjoy yourself.” Damian nodded again, and Colin kissed him once more. “Look,” he said a he headed towards Damian’s door, “I have to go, but I’ll see you later, ok. Everything will be fine.”

Damian watched from his doorframe as his beloved left from his sight and soon the manor. He returned to his dresser, taking his watch from atop of it and clasping it around his wrist. He was ready to go. “I hope, you’re right,” he mumbled to himself before he too headed to the manor’s exit.

 

  


	2. Forced Summoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry stumbles over some trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, time for plot.

**Yesterday**

Footsteps – the sound of them were surrounding him. Eyes were watching him. Two to the north and one more coming from the west. Terry turned a corner, letting the shadows of the surrounding abandoned buildings swallow him. No one should be here. Terry knew that. This part of town was a ghost town. Unlike Gotham, no one used the docks here. He was sure of it. He scoped the area for days before deciding to settle there. Yet the footsteps didn’t falter, the eyes didn’t disappear. He was being followed.

Sighing, Terry pulled the hood of his “borrowed” hoodie further pass his hair. He was hungry, and tired. Running wasn’t on his list of capabilities at the moment. Gripping a lowered bar, Terry vaulted himself up a fire escape and quickly scampered to the top. He could stay on the roof, maybe they wouldn't be able follow. He should be fine despite the autumn chill. He started to settle in, but he heard the footsteps again. A pair of heavy steel-toed boots, he wasn’t as free as he thought. “That honestly seemed to be a running theme lately,” Terry said aloud.  

Without bothering to look behind him, he dipped across the rooftop and swiftly leaped to its neighbor. The heavy footsteps followed without any hesitation. Whoever’s tailing him was used to hopping across rooftops. “Trained guards,” Terry mumbled to himself, “Must be my lucky day.” He leaped again, flying gracefully from the ledge. He landed nearly soundlessly, rushing to the opposite edge. His hanger-on cleared the jump as well, pulling himself from the ledge. He was good, and he was gaining on Terry. “This is bad,” Terry mumbled. His stomach wailed loudly in agreement. He couldn’t keep this up for much longer. “Can’t keep running,” Terry determined, “So there’s only one thing left to do when you can’t run anymore.” When Terry reached the edge of the roof he was currently on, he paused and peaked over his shoulder. His assailant was a smaller man, more his size than Damian’s. Terry could take him, even with an empty stomach. “Time to fight,” he declared. He then teetered over the edge of the roof. This time, instead of jumping across, he jumped down.

The autumn air rushed past him, adrenaline flooding his bloodstream. He remembered the days when this used to scare him. When the rush of wind was too much, and it filled his lungs to point he felt like he was drowning. He would shiver from the windchill and close his eyes to the rushing ground. Now his blood ran so hot, he couldn’t even feel the windchill. His lungs were instead filled with excitement. Terry smiled, “I missed this.”

He landed on a low catwalk between warehouses with a roll, before vaulting the railing and falling again. From the heavy footfalls, it seemed his tail followed him. Good. He climbed downwards again and landed in an alleyway. He turned to see if his follower kept up and was met with a wildly thrown fist. Terry quickly ducked under the haymaker and delivered a quick jab to the other’s gut. “You really wanna get the over with, huh,” Terry teased. Terry then backed from out of the other’s space, wringing his fingers with excitement. “I gotta tell you though,” he began before dropping for a leg sweep, “It’s been a while. I might be a little rusty.”

The other maneuvered past Terry’s outstretched leg. Then again, Terry might have been _really_ rusty. The thought only stayed momentarily, though, as the other raised a leg of his own. He stomped towards Terry’s knee, intending to snap the other’s leg in half. The bat rolled out of the way just in time, his excited smile falling from his face. This man meant business. It’s fine, Terry could fight just as fiercely.

“I see,” Terry called, “You really want to get this over with. Okay then, let’s finish it.” The agent threw another wild hook that Terry deftly weaved past. The man blinked, surprised by the sudden visage of raven hair and blue eyes so close to his face… and so far past his defenses. Terry headbutted the man during his moment of confusion. The other flailed after the unexpected hit, and before the other could fall, Terry grabbed his arm and roughly wrenched it behind the other’s back. A sickening crack sounded throughout the alleyway, followed by the tail’s scream.

Terry yanked harder – to the point that the other’s broken collarbone was stabbing through his skin. “I wanted to go easy,” Terry said, “But you can’t just try to break a guy’s leg like that.” He then pulled again, causing another wail to fall from the other’s lips. Terry growled, “He just might take offense.” He then pushed the other towards a wall, the brick pushing painfully against the other’s exposed collarbone. “I’ll let it go if you tell me why Waller sent you,” Terry offered, “Drop-in who’s watching me, and I may even see to that broken collarbone.”

The man growled and writhed in Terry’s hold, smearing blood on the bricks in front of him. He then shoved a reckless elbow into Terry’s face. The bat loosened his hold as blood spewed from his nose like a fountain. The man shoved Terry away before rounding on him. It was the first time that Terry truly saw him. His eyes were somehow both wild and vacant. Blood spilled from the front of his white button-up, spewing from his snapped collarbone and ripped skin. His mouth was slightly agape as his tongue fiddled with his teeth. “Be patient,” the man said past his tongue. When he finally pulled his tongue away, he revealed a pea sized pill that sat on the tip. “Everything that’s done in the dark will soon come to the Light.”

“What,” Terry asked. He then noticed the pill on the other’s tongue, but it was too late. “Wait,” Terry still yelled. Terry reached for the man, grabbing him from under his armpits as the man slid lifelessly down the brick wall. “Don’t,” Terry ordered, but the pill and the man were long gone. Terry slumped as the body drooped forward in his hold. The two of them slid down the wall and settled onto the alleyway floor, Terry nearly cradling him. The man was dead. “Cyanide pill,” Terry whispered, shocked, “Why would you? Since when did CADMAS? What the hell is going on?”

“Good job.”

Terry startled from the added voice, causing him to release the dead body from his hold. He instantly began to back away from it, his hands held palm-out in front of him. “I didn’t,” he began, his voice trembling. “I wouldn’t,” he continued. He pointed to the body, his tongue blocking his stuttering words as he tried to explain. “I-,” he then shrugged hopelessly, “He killed himself.”

“No,” the voice answered, “His loyalties killed him.” Terry finally tore his eyes away from his former opponent when he heard the words. Just how much did she see? When he turned, Terry was met with a beautiful Asian woman. She was small, but also clearly strong.  Her face, though littered with small scars, was slender and soft. Yet her eyes were hard and relentless. They held little pity for the dead man in front of her despite her next words. “Sad and foolish for a man to die that way,” she commented. She then took a step towards the body, and Terry instinctually took one away from her. There was something about her that made Terry _afraid_. “He should have faced his defeat like a warrior,” she said.

“Who are you,” Terry asked breathlessly. Shivers ran down his back just from the sight of her. He grew up with _Damian_. He should be used to facing dangerous people. Yet, he could barely contain his desire to _run_. If he had eaten earlier, he might have done just that. What was his night turning into? She looked away from the body when Terry spoke, her eyes cutting into him. Terry fell into a defensive position almost without his permission. His instincts never screamed at him like this before. A part of Terry wondered if it was even  _his_ conscience that was running the show.

The woman looked him up and down, a calculated frown forming on her thin lips. “Bruce,” she questioned. Terry felt his anger flare. So, he wasn’t in charge! It was the part of him that was “Bruce” that was telling him to run. If that was the case, then he will stand his ground.

He moved to prove just how wrong her assumptions were when a sharp pain flared from a pressure point near his jugular. The move was so precise, yet so quick. There was no way Terry could have foreseen it. A part of him wished Damian was here. He would have been watching his six. He could have warned Terry.

As the bat hit the ground, Terry noticed a small girl entering his vision. She held similar features to the woman he was speaking to, yet all he could think of was how she and Dick could be of similar age. With that thought, he blacked out. The last thing he saw was curious almond eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the fight scene isn't up to snuff. It's been awhile since I wrote one. Anywho see you next chapter.


End file.
